


After the Fall: Picking up the Pieces

by Chuckrutter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Reichenbach, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuckrutter/pseuds/Chuckrutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John adjusts to life on his own, but a visit from an old friend starts the search for answers to the greatest question; what comes after the fall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John makes a friend

**Author's Note:**

> a work in progress. obviously with no conflict and no ship(s) I feel as if it is incomplete as of now. but it was for a class on fandom and any feedback would be appreciated! thanks and hope you enjoy!

John took a deep breathe and began, “Well, I don’t really…” he paused and continued, “I must have gone insane”. He closed his eyes and turned around to look at the table where he had placed his only friend of late: Sherlock’s old friend, the skull from the mantel. He grabbed it off the table and held it even with his sight. “I could never understand what Sherlock saw in you”. 

It was the first time in his two months alone that John had attempted to carry on a conversation with the skull, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Over the next few days John tried on several occasions to find solace in that empty form, long void of any feeling or compassion. But today he felt so lonely he took his newfound friend with him to the graveyard where he paid Sherlock’s tombstone a visit. But for once, John had nothing to say. As he turned to leave he could have sworn he saw the outline of a familiar figure in a trench coat turn and leave as soon as he attempted to limp over to them. He and his company left to the café next to 221b Baker Street to grab a cup of tea before returning to his flat. As he sat sipping coffee with the skull on the table drawing the attention of those around him, while he saw the same form that had caught his attention at the graveyard exiting the café and quickly retreating down the street. John rose quickly letting his cane fall to the floor and rushed out the door after them. But before he could call out, they had managed to escape around the corner and John limbered back to the café to compose himself, grab his friend and his cane, and retreat to his empty home once more. But when he arrived and walked into the living room there sat in Sherlock’s seat a most surprising face. 

“I thought you were dead,” John mused almost to himself as he glanced in the general direction of the most unexpected visitor.  
“Our mutual friend just couldn’t let me go,” Irene responded with a knowing voice that revealed she was obviously aware of what all of London knew: Sherlock was gone. “He saved my life.” 

“I wish someone had helped him do the same,” John could barely make it through that thought without finding himself ready to shout at Irene, for reasons even he didn’t know. He could not meet her stare, as he could never tell where to look when she was in the room.

“I think perhaps someone did,” Irene replied, prepared for the hundreds of possible reactions that statement might have elicited from John. She stared even more intently at his eyes, hoping to see the recognition, the vindication of John’s belief in Sherlock.  
“I… I need an explanation. Christ, you are just like him. I don’t know what you’ve found. I don’t know if he’s spoken to you,” He had for once met her gaze, he studied her reaction and could tell she hadn’t heard from him, so he continued even more cautiously, afraid of his own feelings as he spoke, “I saw him fall, I held his… I felt his pulse. He was… He is dead,” John betrayed his own lie with those last words. He glanced away and revealed that he felt, he knew Sherlock was alive. That hope had never left him. Now he just needed the proof. 

Irene recognized this and saw her opportunity to start from the beginning. “I had seen the trial. I had been following Sherlock’s exploits, and when the papers had claimed those malicious lies, had said he made it all up, that he was a disgrace and it lead to his suicide… I had to go to where it all happened. I made my way to the hospital.” She had been studying John’s body language and his shifting and following of her story and so she continued, “I had to be sure. When I went to the roof where it had all come to its crescendo, I could see where Moriarty’s blood had spilled, and I went all the way to the ledge. I looked down and immediately a sense of disbelief came over me. Surely he had not jumped.” It was at this point that John became quite obviously upset. She had not known he was there, and so when he had revealed that she hadn’t yet realized the effect it had had on him and so she paused for a moment before John’s face clearly revealed his eagerness to have some sort of proof. “I pulled out my phone,” and it was here she pulled out the exact same model she had taken from her when Sherlock had foiled her plan, and it was here that john finally interjected. He rose from his chair and made his way to Sherlock’s desk and pulled her old phone from Sherlock’s and Irene stopped. She had not expected Sherlock to be the type of man to keep something for sentiment. He had revealed his weakness, the same one that had helped him best her.

She unlocked the phone with another admission that she was Sher-locked, and then continued with her story. “I brought out my phone and began to type what had to be the twentieth text she sent him without a response. But this time, I hoped with all of my heart that he would respond. ‘I’m sad. Let’s have dinner.’” At this point John chuckled remembering the series of texts Sherlock had received of the same vein to no avail. Irene ignored this outburst and continued, “As I pressed send, I waited not 5 seconds before I heard a moan. Not just any moan, my own moan that had been elicited with such joy into Sherlock’s own mobile. I turned almost expecting to see him standing there, as he did that day, that seems so long ago.” John looked away and thought of that day, that he had told Irene to talk to Sherlock, to tell him that she was alive. The situation was so similar John was lost in thought that she had started talking and only part way through he turned back to catch, “ …so I looked around and finally saw a glint of light reflect of that screen. The phone sat abandoned and I pressed the button to ignore the text when I noticed a little icon that indicated a recording was completed. I had to listen to it, and it was then I realized the importance of it. I had found a way to bring Sherlock home.”

She pulled out Sherlock’s phone from her coat and pressed play. And the two heard how Sherlock had managed to get Moriarty to admit his entire plot as if Sherlock wasn’t already aware. With the truth on tape, Sherlock’s name could be cleared.  
“Of course! He always was… he always is two steps ahead! Even when it looked he had been bested, he knew what he was… We have to get this to Lestrade!” His thoughts were all coming in rapid succession and he looked around as he rose from his chair as if to rush out the door immediately. He continued,”He hardly had a doubt of Sherlock’s innocence, he knew that Sherlock was a good man!” John exclaimed as he eagerly grabbed his coat and strode towards the stairs. But Irene deliberately pressed a few buttons on the phone and held it in front of his face as he attempted to breeze by her.

“What’s this then?” he inquired as he looked at the screen that read, “Recent calls: Molly Hooper”.  
Irene matter-of-factly stated, “Of course we should clear his name, but more importantly, I want to find Sherlock. And if Molly was the last person Sherlock talked to, I have just one question; why would Sherlock call Molly Hooper?”


	2. This is definitely Lestrade's division

The two made their way to the morgue and had just walked in the door and immediately Molly knew what they had come for. She had to do her best to seem genuinely surprised. So she drew from the one unknown about the entire situation.

“John! What are you doing here? Who is your… friend?” She looked puzzled switching her gaze between John and the mysterious, commanding presence of the woman next to him. 

Irene immediately interjected, “I am Irene Adler”. Her poise and pointedness told Molly more than Irene had intended.  
“Oh. So you are the…” She glanced back from Irene to look at John and finished, “The Woman”. Molly had known there was someone else, that Christmas night when Sherlock’s phone had made that noise. And John explained the entire situation after the fact, but last Molly had heard, Irene had died. 

“We don’t have time for that story,” John interrupted Molly’s train of thought and continued, “I know he’s alive. I’ve known all along.” He slowed his speech as his thoughts turned to that day. He avoided Molly’s eyes and took a deep breathe and went on, “I know he spoke to you last before he met with Moriarty on the roof. I want to know what you spoke about.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. He only called to apologize for how he had treated me before. I could tell something was off, I just didn’t know he would…”

“Molly. I can tell you know. You know he is still alive,” He took time to decide on each word. He had to be careful. He had to keep his emotions in check. He had to find Sherlock. “Please. I need him. I need Sherlock. We can clear his name! I just need him back!” 

Molly could hardly stand to see John like this, but she had strict instructions from Sherlock. There was nothing she could do, but she knew Sherlock would come back when the situation called for it. 

“All we can do for Sherlock is clear his name. We have to talk to Lestrade. Which means you may want to sit this one out, given what I have heard about your standing with the law.” She gestured to Irene who knew that Molly was of course right. Irene only wished she could give the story as she had worked so hard to find a way to clear Sherlock’s name. 

Molly and John set out at once to meet with Lestrade and then would return to 221b to let Irene know when Sherlock would be in the clear. And so when they entered his office, he too knew at once what matter was at hand. He eyed them up and down as they entered and immediately began, “So, what’s this about then? You’ve single-handedly done it? You’ve cleared the name of that sociopath? That good man.” 

John hadn’t expected Lestrade to know right off what they were there to discuss and so it fell to Molly to begin.  
“Greg… we found Sherlock’s phone. You need to listen to this.” She pressed play, and once more Sherlock’s voice and brilliance had the room in awe. Before it had even finished Lestrade stands purposefully from his chair. Without a word he immediately slapped John on the back and shook Molly’s hand as he strode out the door, chuckling , and muttering half to himself, “He’s done it. That brilliant bastard. I knew he could do it,” leaving the two thoroughly bewildered, but even more set in their belief that soon everything would be back to normal.


	3. Mycroft keeps his promise

It had been two weeks since the newspaper had printed a front page retraction, a tell all piece about how the entire country, the world even, had been fooled into believing that the man who had so long protected the streets of London had in fact tricked them all. Sherlock’s name was clear, and yet John had heard no word from him. Though that very same day the retraction was set to be published, John sought out the man who was usually the one to suddenly catch him off-guard, with a pretty lady and a fancy car to have a simple discussion. John had only managed to confuse several guards at the palace, and it was only when Mycroft’s orders echoed in the earpieces of those guards attempting to push John out that they immediately escorted him to the inner most chambers, where not too long before John and Sherlock had met with Mycroft (though this time the ashtrays had already been put away lest they go missing again). Mycroft was waiting for John, but did not stir upon his arrival.

“Er… I don’t quite… “ John didn’t know where to begin and his words came out slow and more mangled than usual. But he carried on, “You have to know…” at this point of a deliberate pause Mycroft dryly muttered, “Well, I assume you are here for a reason,” as he seemed more interested in gazing around the room than even looking at John while he spoke.

“Well yes, it is as simple as this: Sherlock is alive,” John expected that this news would elicit some sort of response from the normally stoic Mycroft Holmes, but when Mycroft hardly stirred John was honestly shocked.

“Well have you seen him? I should say my brother is full of surprises. Unless you’ve heard it from his mouth, I doubt you know the truth.”  
John was taken aback and could not control his emotions and no longer wished to be in the room any longer. Without a word he walked out without any interference from Mycroft or any guards throughout the palace on his way out the door and back to 221b. 

Mycroft knew what John must think of him. But he couldn’t disappoint his brother. Not again, when Mycroft owed him for his carelessness. Sherlock had been perfectly clear, only he was to let John know of his survival. Sherlock made this point when he had caught Mycroft at his flat the day after his brother had read of his supposed demise in silent agony at the Diogenes Club. Shocked, but relieved, Mycroft overlooked the egregious breach of security (knowing that the security cameras must be down or Sherlock would not have arrived). And it was then that Sherlock offered his complete forgiveness, as he had known there was only one place Moriarty, and thus the writer, could have acquired such knowledge of his life. Sherlock swore he did not hold it against his brother and that everything would be fine. But in this already unusual meeting where the two let down their normally frigid barriers, Sherlock also made clear he asked of his brother two simple requests (other than the obvious task of keeping his survival secret): he must keep an eye on John including helping maintain his ownership of 221b, and he must let Sherlock tell John, at the proper time, that he was alive. Sherlock had to know that John was safe. And he had to be the one to let him know, to be there for John when he finds out. After what he had put John through, he owed him that.


	4. Come at once if convenient

John had nearly given up hope. He almost believed that Sherlock had managed to foil Moriarty at the cost of his life. It took all the faith John had, but if he believed in anything, he believed in Sherlock Holmes. And so with each passing day he held fast in his belief that Sherlock would come back home. But the day came when John managed to find the strength to leave the flat for a quick stroll through the park followed by his weekly visit to Sherlock’s grave. As he came to the spot he had occupied many times before, he saw something out of place. Resting on Sherlock’s gravestone was a small letter. He opened the letter and had barely read through the words on the page when he let the paper slip from his hand and he turned, dropped his cane and sprinted. He ran as if his very life depended on it, and went all the way back to 221b Baker Street. As he climbed the stairs and hurried by Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, “Whatever is the rush? Is something the matter?”

But John could not be bothered to respond to sweet Mrs. Hudson as he entered the room that had seen so many lonely days of late. He had to grab hold of his chair for support. Sitting across from his seat as if he had never left was Sherlock Holmes. 

Near Sherlock’s grave the note stood open and contained neatly written, “221b Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient come all the same”


End file.
